Short Stuff
by deepfathom
Summary: From now on, all of my shorter HTTYD stories will be posted here and rated accordingly by story. :)
1. The Gods Must Be Crazy

**The Gods Must Be Crazy**

 **(Rated K)**

 **...**

The Gods Must Be Crazy.

Or at least moderately insane...

...No, definitely crazy and Odin hated him, to boot. Thor too, obviously.

Why else would he be sitting in the Great Hall, jaw dangling wide open, the mouthful of mead he had been about to swallow now sprayed over the tabletop while the others looked on in surprise and mild disgust?

"W-what did you just say?" Hiccup spluttered.

"I said Berk's been chosen to host the Inter-Tribal Games this year," Astrid replied, a bit more impatiently than when she had burst through the doors to deliver the exciting news.

Hiccup pulled a sleeve across his mouth. "The…the what-huh?"

"Are you serious," Snotlout chimed in, a wide, roguish grin crawling over his face. "She said Berk's hosting the _Inter-Tribal Games_. You know, where the whole Archipelago gets together to bash each other around in the spirit of fun and friendship? It's like Thawfest times twenty!"

Hiccup blinked, paled…

Snotlout had just drudged up a very unpleasant series of memories. The Games only happened every ten years, the last occurring when Hiccup was twelve and not much more than a twiggy, scraggly sapling. Most of the youngsters from the other tribes were muscular, hulking and, thankfully, incredibly stupid. It still baffled him how he'd managed to stay alive through those three arduous days of "fun and friendly" competition on nothing other than wits and his easy-to-miss size on his side.

Almost as if acting upon survival instinct, Hiccup stood, performed a sharp about face and made for the entrance.

"Wait!" Astrid caught him by the collar and dragged him backwards, plunking him back down onto the bench. "Hiccup, as the chief, it's your duty to represent Berk in the Games. We have tons of work to do to get ready, not to mention you need to start training right away—"

"T-training?" he gulped, heartbeat skipping. "Training for wha—all right, I wanna know who okayed this without running it by me for chiefly approv—"

"Oh, hey!" Tuffnut exclaimed as if noticing Hiccup for the first time. "He's the chief!"

"That's right, he is the chief," Ruffnut agreed, stroking her chin.

Snotlout snorted into his mug. "Wow. They finally noticed."

Tuffnut fist-bumped his sister. "Congratulations, big guy! You get to compete with the biggest…"

"…and the best…"

"…in the chiefs-only Brawl-A-Rama Battle Bowl!"

Hiccup's lunch turned in his stomach, threatening to evict itself.

"Lucky," said Snotlout. "The Brawl-A-Rama's like, the ultimate poundage."

"Superior pummelage," said one twin.

"Premium slayage—" started the other.

"Nope." That did it. At the mention of "slayage", Hiccup bolted. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope!"

"Hey! Get back here!" Astrid called after him. "Where are you going?"

"Uh, nowhere in particular! Just ditching Berk for a couple months—TOOTHLESS! Y'know, see the world, find myself, throw up..."

And he was gone, leaving nothing but a swinging door behind.

"Please tell me we have a backup plan…" Snotlout said after an awkward moment.

With an exasperated grunt, Astrid let her head fall into a palm.


	2. Sister for a Day

**Sister for a Day**

 **(Rated K)**

 **...**

"Nice…work, guys," a mud-plastered, slightly dazed Hiccup gasped from his position on the ground. "Way to stick it…out."

"Oh, that's right," Snotlout retorted from the left, "this was _your_ idea. If my arms weren't so dead from triple speed _yak-tipping_ , I'd probably punch you in the face right now."

"Shut up, Snotlout, you smell bad enough without all the whining." Astrid lay opposite him with her arms spread out to the sides, every inch of her dotted with minor scrapes and smeared with sticky pine sap. "Besides, be glad you're not the one that had to play 'extreme squirrel tag'. It's gonna take me weeks to get this stuff out of my hair!"

"Ch-ch-chicken racing—ACHOO!" Covered from head to toe in downy feathers, Fishlegs more closely resembled a poofy, inside-out pillow than a Viking.

"Doesn't sound so bad to me."

"I was the chicken!"

"Oh."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to look at another one as long as I live."

The four teens, lying flat on their backs in a circle, could easily have been mistaken for a ragged band of warriors fresh from a war; fatigue, bewilderment and the tiniest bit of sheer terror etched into their grimy faces.

"What was it Tuff made you do again, Hiccup?" queried Astrid after a pause.

"Mega boar pit."

"Ugh!" gasped Fishlegs. " _Mega_ boar pit?"

"Let me put it this way: twice as many boars, twice as much 'fun'. At least according to Tuffnut."

Astrid wrinkled her nose. "Gross!"

"Yeah…but it was worth it to cheer up Tuff while Ruff's sick, don't you think?"

"Heh, he's lucky we were so willing. Those two have no idea how to function without each other."

Fishlegs shook his head. "How do they do this stuff day after day after day?"

"Who knows? Or…do we even _want_ to know—"

"Huh!" huffed Snotlout. "I am never, _ever_ gonna be a 'substitute sister' again. _Ever_. And none of you can make me."

"Aw, c'mon," Hiccup sighed, "you saw how bummed out he was this morning—"

"Hey, guys!" The familiar voice broke into their conversation, bringing all but the stiff and loudly complaining Snotlout upright.

"Ruffnut?!"

The other half of the Thorston duo smiled as she took a seat in the grass beside them.

"B-but…aren't you supposed to be sick?" Fishlegs asked, voice laced with worry.

"Psh," she waved him off. "I'm over it. Bugs like that can't keep a Thorston down for long. Couple of good pukes and we're set to go."

The others shared a disgusted glance.

"Tuff's got it now, but before he really got going, he told me how cool it was that you all stepped in and did a few of our favorite things with'im."

"Oh, please, no," Snotlout begged. "Please, Odin, I'll do anything you want! Just don't make me—"

"Who's up for a yak-pie fight?!" Ruffnut sprang to her feet and galloped away. "Woohooo! Last one there's a rotten Gronckle egg!"


	3. The Assassin

**A/N: Just a small, stupid thing. I don't know where this small, stupid thing came from, but it inevitably got more dramatic and complicated than I ever intended it to be. Maybe I should start accepting that that's how I roll and go with it?**

 **Anyway…it's kind of vague and not incredibly well-written, but I don't really expect it to go any further than where it is. I already have enough half-finished ideas floating around and I just had to get it down. X)**

 **The Assassin**

 **(Rated T)**

 **...**

At the center of the Great Hall, a goblet slipped from trembling fingers, clanging on the stone floor like a death knell. In the frozen silence that followed, Hiccup staggered forward a step, then collapsed to his knees, face white as winter, one hand grasping at his throat as he began to retch.

At that moment, two individuals detached themselves from the gathered crowd; one, fierce and blonde, toward the Chief, the other, dark and cloaked, for the nearest exit.

"No!" Astrid shrieked, cupping his face in her hands. "No, no, Hiccup, please! Stay with me, stay with me! Say something!"

The answer came as a frightening series of twitchs and a bit of foam seething from the corner of his half-open mouth. Tipping forward, his bloodshot eyes widened, glazed over. His chest heaved with every ragged, choking breath he attempted to take as her sturdy arms circled securely about him.

Another joined the grisly scene.

"Great Thor, he's been poisoned!" Gobber shouted.

" _What_?" someone blurted.

"Poisoned?"

"Gothi!"

"Find Gothi!"

The silent old woman was already shoving past bodies much bulkier than hers, face lined with concern but set with purpose. Reaching into a pouch, she drew out a phial of greenish liquid, tore out the stopper, forced Hiccup's mouth open with a couple of fingers and poured the entire potion straight down his throat.

Not one soul dared to blink...

The tangible tension loosened considerably as the seizures began to slow, his breath became less labored, his eyes rolled back and closed…

"Wha…what did you…" Astrid trailed off, seemingly the only one to notice the great doors at the far end of the room open just enough to allow someone to slip out.

"No' t'worry, lass." Gobber crouched beside her, laying his hand on Hiccup's sweat-drenched brow before relieving her of his weight. "He'll be a'right soon enough—hey! Where d'yeh think yer—wait!"

"Be right back. There's something I need to look into, like, right now."

Astrid sprinted across the hall and was outside before anyone could intervene.

….

The would-be assassin was small and fast, but not quite fast enough to escape the keen observer from the top of the Great Hall's steps.

 _The woods, of course_. Astrid thought, carefully noting the shadow's sharp turn.

With that, she vaulted down the stairs, skipping the bottom three and wrenching the axe from its resting place on her back upon landing. The intruder had speed and camouflage on their side, advantages that would have given any other Viking some trouble while tracking them through the night-shrouded forest. Astrid, however, was not just another Viking. She could run these woods in her sleep and was incredibly light on her feet for someone toting several pounds of fur, leather and metal.

It was almost too easy. The young woman closed the gap between them in record time, letting out an infuriated yell as soon as she was certain her target was well within reach. With a mind of its own, the axe went hurling from her hands to bury a blade deep in a tree trunk mere inches above the villain's head.

Astrid left little opportunity—or breath—for defensive maneuvers, let alone so much as a surprised yelp. The axe remained embedded in the tree, all but forgotten for now, but her attack was just as potent on adrenaline and bare fists alone. The two collided and in a whirl, Astrid had her opponent in a firm headlock.

The assassin, however, had other plans and shoved a leg between hers, tripping her up and sending them both to the dirt. The steep, downhill roll that came after was not a pleasant one. As if trying their best to contribute to the scuffle, loose rocks and jutting tree roots indiscriminately gouged every available soft spot on either body, leaving cuts and bruises exposed through torn clothing.

Sometime during the descent, Astrid decided she would _not_ the one pinned under the other at the bottom of the slope. As momentum waned, she gave a tug, pulling them through a last rotation before bringing the tumble to an abrupt end. Beneath her knee, the assassin squirmed, frantic to escape the clutches of this unexpected attacker.

"Who are you?!" Astrid growled before pushing back the hood and tearing away the black wrappings masking the face.

…Masking _her_ face.

The stranger was a girl…a teen. Lithe and slithery with dark eyes and hair, she had the classic build of an assassin, but, to Astrid's astonishment, not the demeanor to match it. Instead of the cruel, amused smirk of experience she was accustomed to seeing stretched across the vile features of similar enemies, the girl's trembling expression was that of desperate terror. Her chest heaved with sharp gasps and the eyes were round, glistening in the patchy moonlight as the jaw clenched.

Astrid hesitated…

Before she could think to block, a pair of joined fists came hurling out of nowhere, striking her upside the head and sending her reeling sideways while the girl made her getaway. The forest spun in sickening loops, nearly causing Astrid's stomach to riot in protest. Cursing her own stupidity in no quiet manner, the warrior staggered to her feet and began a rather crooked pursuit.

The now panicked assassin could do little to resist as the Viking, though dizzy and somewhat lacking in her former agility, caught up quickly and seized a handful of the cloak, dragging her backwards into a chokehold.

A dagger flashed, biting into the flesh of Astrid's unprotected bicep and enraging her further. Grasping the wrist of the hand holding the blade, she twisted before any more harm could be inflicted. The girl screamed in pain as she was flung around and driven face-first into a thick tree trunk with the arm pinned behind her.

"Some assassin you are," Astrid spat through her teeth, pressing the newly acquired knife to her captive's gulping throat.

"P-please…" begged the girl, struggling against strength much greater and more disciplined than her own. "Please, you don't understand—"

"What's not to understand? I've heard this story too many times and I know exactly how it ends. But not this time."

"I-I had no choice! You have to believe me, I never wanted to—"

Anger flared through Astrid's veins again, rising through her face to gleam in her eyes. The underage assassin flinched at the sudden increase in pressure, genuine fear for her life frozen in her countenance.

"Believe you?! Why in the name of Midgard should I believe a cold-blooded…" An unusual, half-concealed splotch on the teen's neck stopped Astrid short, then shocked her to the core when, after a breathless pause, she removed the knife and pulled the bunched wrappings free.

A Slavemark. A twisting, red scar clearly, _permanently_ labeling this young woman as property, not a person. The girl was indeed only a frightened, expendable pawn in someone else's sinister scheme. Astrid's grip slackened, as did the slight frame she held against the tree.

"He'll…he'll kill me. He's going to kill me."

"What? Who's going to—"

"I c-can't…he'll kill me. He'll kill me! H…help me…" The looming consequences of capture on a foreign island and the very visible terror of returning to a cruel owner without having finished a job appeared to be too much. The eyes slid out of focus, the girl slumped and Astrid grunted as she caught her deadweight.

….

For about the hundredth time that hour, Gobber leaned over the bed where a deathly pale Hiccup lay. He knew well enough that Gothi's painstakingly concocted antidote was working, but he had to make sure. He had to see with his own eyes every few minutes that the Chief was still alive, still breathing.

The blacksmith himself had carried the young man out of the Great Hall and down the steps, trailing a growing entourage of anxious villagers which he'd had to shut out upon arrival at the Haddock home. Now, only he remained to watch over Stoick's son in the quiet, private aftermath…

Gobber started at the sound of the front door swinging to and the heavy footsteps that followed.

"Oh, for Freya's sake, can't ya even let'im alone for more than three minutes—"

It was not the silhouette of a worried citizen coming upstairs as he'd expected, but two individuals in a single, shadowy mass; both female, one climbing while the other dangled over a shoulder. He watched, mouth opening in realization as the dirt-covered form reached the top and separated.

When her unconscious load was safely deposited in a corner, Astrid turned, face ashen beneath bruises which suggested a recent struggle.

"We have a problem."

"Aye, lassie, I noticed. But Hiccup'll pull through, y'know. Always does." He paused, giving a nod in the direction of their limp visitor. "And I see yeh've saved us some trouble and taken care o' the rest."

"No…" Astrid murmured. Dropping into a crouch beside her captive, she pushed aside a lock of dark, sweat-dampened hair to reveal a serpentine scar near the base of the girl's neck. "No, it's much more serious than we think."


	4. Firebird, Part 1

_A/N: I had an idea for a thing, so I wrote down the thing really fast before I forgot it. Please note that this is NOT A GUARANTEE of a fully developed, multichapter fic. I just needed to put it somewhere. Thank you and feel free to let me know what you think. Words of encouragement are always welcome.)_

 **Firebird, Part 1**

 **(Rated T)**

...

The screaming rush of air blasting her face and tearing apart her braid with icy claws. The head-first weightlessness of a dead plummet through space. The thrill of high speed. It was all just as exhilarating as it had been years ago when she'd first scrambled awkwardly onto Stormfly's back. They must have pulled this stunt a thousand times over, yet it still awoke inside her the fiery need for freedom that left her yearning for the skies when at last she was compelled to return to earth.

How she had ever lived without Stormfly by her side, Astrid couldn't imagine. The dragon was entwined with her very being now. It would be unnatural, _unbearable_ to be separated. The two could almost be mistaken for a single organism, so in rhythm that, when spotted patrolling the skies, it was sometimes hard to distinguish where dragon ended and human began.

And what a magnificent, formidable creature they had become, always on the lookout, the first to arrive on scene should anything threaten their home or loved ones. Between Stormfly's array of sharp spikes and Astrid's skill with a battleaxe (or any other weapon she happened to be holding), not many dared to challenge the Chief's mighty wife. Needless to say, the island benefited greatly from their vigilance.

There were, of course, short periods of ease and enjoyment scattered here and there among the thankless work of surveillance and peace-keeping. For Astrid, these were few and far between, usually coming as a result of Hiccup's insistence that she relax and take a break, not only for her sake, but for his as well. As much as she argued and protested, time off was deeply appreciated by both parties. Sometimes the couple went ages without a chance to each sneak away alone with their dragon and do what _they_ wanted to do, free of hassle and tribal obligations.

Being married to the Chief came with a whole slew of responsibilities and expectations. People respected and looked up to her and depended on her. Winter was seizing the island fast and lately the village had been humming with preparation, most of which fell to Hiccup and Astrid to organize and oversee. On top of that, she was captain of the Berk Guard, which meant endless days of training, rain or shine, and watch duty at all conceivable hours. She often returned home cranky and tired, and this morning had been no exception, prompting a not-so-subtle request from her husband to get out of the village for a while and do something fun. They were both getting snappy, and as usual, Hiccup's diagnosis and subsequent suggested remedy for relieving tension were spot-on.

Admittedly, she hadn't put up as much of the usual fuss this time when Hiccup tried (and failed at first) to shove her out the door.

Now here they were, just a young woman and her most trusted, winged companion, island-hopping in search of game. Stormfly's saddlebags were already bursting with the day's haul and Astrid's smile broadened at the idea that the Great Hall would soon be filled with the delicious aroma of fresh meat roasting over fire pits. There would be a feast on Berk tonight and with that would come friends and family, boasting and laughter, all the classic rambunctiousness of a Viking get-together.

However, she wasn't quite ready to call it quits and head for home. Not yet. There was still some daylight left, still some adventure to be had and she intended to squeeze every last possible drop of pleasure out of them while she had the chance. The thickly forested spit of land directly ahead of them looked to be the perfect place to scratch these remaining itches.

She brought Stormfly out of their daring dive with barely a twitch and the pair swooped over a rocky beach, dusting treetops before touching down in a clearing.

In a fluid movement, Astrid armed herself, slipped down one of Stormfly's wings and came to a practiced, noiseless landing. Though the go-to choice of weapon was her axe, her goal was to stalk and kill her targets swiftly and quietly, not obliterate them. So the axe remained strapped to the saddle, awaiting the touch of its owner's hand should the need arise. No such instance was likely to occur on these small, uninhabited islands, though, and Astrid had wandered confidently across them with nothing more than a bow and a quiver of arrows.

She pulled in a breath, unable to hold back a contented laugh, then leaned in to plant a loving kiss on Stormfly's snout. The dragon responded with a bump and affectionate shriek.

"C'mon, girl. Let's see what we can scare up, huh?"

Their walk started like all of the previous ones. Astrid forged on while the Stormfly trailed behind, pausing here and there to investigate the irresistible wonders nature had to offer. Astrid was all too happy to let the distracted Naddar linger and burn off pent-up energy—sometimes literally. It was obvious that the dragon, like her rider, was feeling the effects of their daily pressures and simply needed a day out and few good rolls in the dirt to cool down.

The young woman was no novice at navigating forests and had soon trekked far enough through brambles and over jutting stones to no longer be within hearing distance of Stormfly's happy snorts. In fact, she noted with some interest, she couldn't hear anything at all, which was strange for such a dense forest that should otherwise be teaming with life. There were no birdcalls, no chattering of squirrels or rustling of hare or foxes as they burrowed. Maybe she was getting tired and therefore not as stealthy? Or maybe she'd meandered into some kind of otherworldly void…?

Naturally, the latter was completely ridiculous, but Astrid's stomach clenched anyway at the strange occurrence, compelling her to draw an arrow and notch it on the bowstring just in case. It was always better, in her opinion, to prepare for the worst possible scenario than to be caught defenseless and probably end up dead.

It was then that she realized how much darker it was inside these woods than the others they had visited earlier. The trees crowded around her, huddling in tight clumps and making it nearly impossible for sunlight to penetrate. To make things worse, the farther she walked, the closer and more bleak everything became.

Perplexed by this phenomenon and the odd feeling of suffocating dread it brought with it, she paused, turning a complete circle while sweeping from canopy to floor in search of explanations and coming up short. Instinctively, she raised the bow, pulling the string taut…but what exactly was she aiming at?

 _Must be imagining things…it's been a long day._

Astrid was about to stand down and move on when something large and broad bumped her from behind. As she yelled, the bow twanged and the arrow whipped away.

"Stormfly!" she blurted, whirling around to give the dragon a relieved hug. "You nearly scared me to death! What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?"

Instead of her usual squawking reply, Stormfly raised her crest of spikes and reared to full height, pupils reduced to slits as her head twitched from side to side. The dragon's nostrils flared and contracted, taking in the stifling, disconcerting musk slithering between the trees. Astrid could smell it too.

"Stormfly, what…what is it?"

A soft growl rose from the Deadly Nadder's throat and she lowered her head again, backing away slowly with wings partially unfurled as if preparing for a quick takeoff.

And that was the signal that their little side trip was at an end.

"Yeah, something feels really off about this island. I don't like it."

Agreement came as a ruffled snort and shake of the barbed head.

Astrid gave her companion a pat. "Right, let me get my arrow and then we're out of here."

It had taken hours upon hours to construct and fletch every single one of those arrows by hand and it had been well worth the work. The stuffed saddlebags spoke for themselves. The long and wicked-looking darts were precious weapons, painstakingly crafted and fine-tuned to her specific shooting style while a pile of unworthy candidates grew at her feet. She couldn't afford to lose even one of them. Besides, how far could the rogue arrow possibly have gone in such a stuffy place like this?

Stormfly gave a concerned chirp as Astrid stepped toward the nearest bramble-curtained clump of trees.

"It's ok, I think I saw where it went…"

The wall of decaying plant life was a lot more difficult to tear through than she'd thought it would be. Gnarled with age and lack of sufficient light, the branches twisted and locked together like hundreds of fingers, creating an effective armor-like barrier. Nothing seemed to have disturbed it within the last thousand years and Astrid felt suddenly uneasy, like a trespasser.

After ditching the bow and enduring several frustrating moments of poking, punching, and swearing, she relented and went for the axe. Any other thicket wouldn't have stood a chance at this point, but this one was proving sturdier than most. And that only fueled the irritation. For a full minute, Astrid hacked and chopped, determined to show these lowly plants who was boss. In the end, exhaustion won out and she only managed to clear a hole just big enough for her to squeeze inside.

Well, it was better than nothing. She might as well give it a shot.

More than a few bits of skin were left behind as she squirmed and wriggled her way in and finally went tumbling to the spongy ground on the other side. Immediately, she heard the anxious shuffling of the dragon outside...

"I'm fine, Stormfly," she reassured, pushing up from the damp, mossy carpet. "Stay there, girl. I'll be right back, I promise."

There was no way her friend could follow unless she torched the whole forest and Astrid was certain that that was a very bad idea. The young Viking woman straightened, muttering as she brushed dirt and picked leaves out of her hair and fur wrappings.

"Ugh." She grunted, wrinkling her nose at the dank odor of rot while her sight adjusted.

It was as if the place had skipped evening and dropped straight into the darkest part of night. The part where everyone should be comfortable and asleep and blissfully heedless of the shadows crawling outside. The trees formed a tight, perfect circle, as if someone had woven them together to create a room or hideaway. Just in front of the trees and barely visible ran a significantly smaller ring of what appeared to be rune stones, dark with dried moss and pocked with scars.

But it was what occupied the center of the ring that froze her from the inside out, overwhelming her with a strong sense of being caught in some silent observer's wary gaze...

Surrounded by a small, raised mound was an egg-shaped spire of rock, black and domineering and probably older than the Archipelago itself. She couldn't resist inching in for a closer look and noted that its surface was smooth and slightly translucent, like the skin of a giant cocoon. Upon closer inspection, fire-like designs and markings she'd never seen before swirled beneath the surface, seeming to glow and flicker at her approach with self-generated heat.

Heart racing, she realized that she was perhaps the first human being in eons to happen upon the site...

Momentarily, the arrow was forgotten and nothing mattered except the shroud of mesmerizing mystery. The scene was too unnatural for an island still so wild and untouched. Someone had built this place, put these things here intentionally. At the same time, it was vastly too perfect, too _powerful_ to be the work of an ordinary group of people. It was skewed, out of place, part of a different, more primal world that had become trapped in this one.

"What… _is_ this," she whispered, reaching out to trace one of the writhing trails with a finger…

Flesh met stone and before the young woman could think to scream, white-hot sparks spewed from beneath her hand, blinding her. She couldn't pull away as tongues of flame traveled the length of her arm like lightning, colliding with her soul and catapulting her violently against the solid barrier of trees behind her.


End file.
